


little sacrifices

by maraudersourwolf



Series: sterek trope reversal event [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Common Cold, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Human Derek Hale, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sick Derek Hale, Species Swap, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 14:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15910125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudersourwolf/pseuds/maraudersourwolf
Summary: The only thing that he knows is that in one second Stiles was making use of that smart brain of his to deliver some very colored and depicted insults and the next one the witch is throwing a hex. Now, the intelligent thing to do would have been to step aside and let Stiles get whatever punishment he got coming his way, right?Because that’s exactly what he didn’t do





	little sacrifices

**Author's Note:**

> **STEREK REVERSAL EVENT | DAY 2: HUMAN DEREK**  
>   
> 
> I don't even know what this one is.  
> Can't even try to explain it.  
> I just wanted a sick Derek, that's all.  
>  
> 
> Barely to none beta'd.  
> Really messy.  
> I have no excuses for this one.  
> Enjoy!

 

 

“Dhis is add youd faud”

Stiles really tries not to laugh, Derek can see it, but it just seems to be physically impossible for him.

He squints at the boy in a way that’s clearly supposed to be threatening, but having his nose red and his eyes watery most likely doesn’t help his case at all. _Likely_ being an understatement, because Stiles barely if has any piece of mind to hide an amused snort with a fake coff and keep his shoulders square into a sort of impromptu salsa dance while trying to not follow the shakes of laughter.

“I know you’re used to blame it all on me, but I have no partake in you getting a cold when--”

“Id’s dod aboud dhe cod”

It is about the cold.

It’s also about how he was a werewolf this morning, as any other morning of his life with his healthy body and his enhanced senses, until Stiles decided to be part of a pissing contest with a witch, from every other being in the world. Derek doesn’t even know why Stiles started to verbally fight the witch.

He’s sure Stiles himself doesn’t even know why he started to fight the witch.

The only thing that he knows is that in one second Stiles was making use of that smart brain of his to deliver some very colored and depicted insults and the next one the witch is throwing a hex. Now, the intelligent thing to do would have been to step aside and let Stiles get whatever punishment he got coming his way, right?

Because that’s exactly what he didn’t do, since feelings got in the way and Derek is seriously starting to doubt his own intelligence a bit.

For all the times he complained about the dog jokes, his brain does nothing but get into _most loyal boy ever_ and decides to help by jumping right in the middle of the blast, like a total lunatic. Because who wouldn’t jump right into possible maiming for the one you love?

That’s clearly something he need to talk to a therapist, because it's not like he has extra lives to spare.

The thing is that he’s now a human.

And not only that, but a _sick human_. A possibly dying, barely hours of life left, human.

“I feed dige dyig”

“Stop being a baby,” mutters Stiles and Derek thinks that maybe this should be the so much promised time where he rips his throat out. If only he wasn’t so exhausted. “It’s just a cold”

He’s about to retort that a cold is not exactly something he ever experienced before, but it dies on his throat. Quite literally, if the coughing fit that assaults him means anything. Stiles slaps his back in what Derek guesses it’s supposed to be helpful, but stops an inch short for making him spit his lungs out.

Even so, he still melts inside at Stiles trying to be attentive and take proper care of him.

Or probably because of the fever.

When the coughing finally stops, he feels even worse than before. Now every bone and muscle in his body aches and so far he would not offer any resistance if a stray ninja hunter would come to kill him. He’d even beg for it to happen.

“C'mere, you big puppy,” Stiles mutters and crawls into bed with him.

For a second, he thinks about pushing Stiles out and keep on doing what he knows best: brood. Now with the extra feat of doing it under the covers and a stuffy nose. But Stiles looks very apological, almost like a kicked puppy. And even if he can’t confirm it, due to the lack of sense of smell in every and all its forms, Derek feels his heart painfully clench a little.

It can also be the possible and imminent dead coming for him, but Derek is going to give it the benefit of the doubt.

Besides, there’s the chance of a payback by having Stiles catch the cold.

The fact that he’s craving a bit of extra warmth and any kind of human contact might also have something to do with him just going plaint in between the human’s arms. Or the extra scoop of feelings doing laps in the middle of his chest. Not that he’d ever admit to it. No words regarding that issue will come out of his mouth, no sir.

“Do you feel better now?,” Stiles mutters.

“Do,” Derek grumbles and tries to burrow even closer to Stiles’ body that seems to be running way more hot than usual. Which is weird, but since he has the tip of his fingers and knees freezing, Derek’s not going to complain.

“Then I guess this isn’t a good moment to tell you that actual fangs just popped in my mouth, right?”

He takes it back, he’s totally going to complain.

“Whad?”

“Well, I didn’t wanted to say anything because, y’know, you are here. Dying. Because who knew a common cold was more effective than wolfsbane to put you down. And I’m, well-- not.”

Fuck his life.

Fuck his luck.

Fuck the witch and the hex and fuck--

Stiles presses Derek even closer, the tip of his nose dragging over a temple where Derek knows there’s for sure droplets of sweat because Stiles’ body right now is like hugging an oven, and then sniffs. Loud and clear, not leaving room for doubt about the pure yet completely weird thing that just happened that’s nothing but the most purest and refined essence of werewolf instincts, cutting each and every thought on Derek’s mind short.

Because he knows those instincts.

They are not pack related, because there’s no way you’re going to rub yourself over your werewolf family and take an unapologetically whiff like that.

No, those are instincts that Derek has been suppressing for a while because there is no way that he’d put himself out there and do something to easily tip Stiles into his feelings and--

_Fuck_ , indeed.

“Dude--”

“Dod’ cad be dude”

“-- your heart is beating like crazy now. Are you feeling okay?”

Derek swallows as efficiently as possible, which is none at all, and tries to not think about how this is everything he wanted with a bow on top and he’s here. Snotty, feverish and probably hallucinating because the Stiles he knows would not feel the way he does.

The boy is most likely trying to offer some sort of comfort and instead he’s breaking Derek’s heart.

Y’know, the usual.

“... yeah”

“Are you sure?,” Stiles presses because of course he hears the blip of the lie and being the little genius he is, already decoded what it means.

“Yeah”

“Okay”

The silence most likely doesn’t even last 10 seconds.

It doesn’t even surprises him.

“If it is because the sniffing I--”

There’s many things he wished for his first kiss with Stiles.

A nice romantic setting, for starters. But knowing the other boy, the idea of kissing in the heat of the moment in the middle of a discussion didn’t sound so bad. Or in a very novel-esque way, right before jumping into mortal danger, as the ultimate sacrifice.

Having every corner of his body stuffed in snot and being in his weakest peak wasn’t exactly in his plans.

That doesn’t stop him from doing it anyways, taking a blind shot into the dark and see if maybe his luck isn’t so crooked as he thinks it is. If maybe for the first time in his existence someone up there will say _‘we fucked him over too much, this is his time to shine’_. Or if he can properly shut Stiles down before his rambling gives him a headache.

He's more shocked than proud to say it works.

Stiles kisses back almost instantly, far more adamant than expected, and Derek pretends he’s not melting a little bit inside. Or a lot. He’s not even pretending, actually. Who would pretend in a time like this?

When they pull apart, Stiles is nothing but grinning widely. Derek thinks that he does too, but maybe his face is doing some sort of weird contorting that goes beyond his control. That’s what happens when you expect something for too long and finally get it; your mind just breaks.

Stiles places a kiss on his forehead and takes one of his now famous unsubtly sniffs.

And then another.

And another.

And another one.

Derek thinks that maybe he missed a cue about some serious issue with his scent. Maybe he already smells like death. Again. But Stiles looks strangely gleeful at the same time that Derek feels strangely cozy and he really can’t find it in himself to complain.

Not this time.

Getting a runny nose for the first time in his life?

Nothing but a little sacrifice for the best day of his life.

 


End file.
